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Chapter 17 ~ In his arms
Athena
The plan was supposed to be simple revenge.
But now that he’s here, so close to me, I’m starting to regret what I did.
I scramble to sit up, the fog of sleep clinging to me as I stammer, “I–I’m sorry. I was just—”
I don’t get to finish. His hand snakes around my wrist as I try to move away, and in one swift motion, I stumble forward–right
into his chest as he falls with his back on his bed and me on top of him.
Damn it!
He’s warm. Solid. His arm tightens around me like a steel band.
“Let me go,” I mutter, but my voice cracks, betraying the warring emotions raging inside me.
He doesn’t.
Instead, he smirks–a broken, bitter curve of his lips. “Being in a man’s bed isn’t exactly good manners, is it?”
I clench my jaw, my pride flaring. “It’s not just any man,” I fire back. “It’s my husband’s.‘
His laugh is deep, low, mocking, and it cuts through me.
“Husband,” he repeats, rolling the word off his tongue like it’s a joke.
The sound of it–the venom in his voice–stings more than I want it to.
“}
“Are things going so bad with Leah that you had to get drunk like this?” I snap, trying to twist the knife back into him.
But Alexander just chuckles, his green eyes clouded with something I can’t place.
“Me and Leah are just fine,” he says, his voice slurred, the scent of alcohol clinging to him. “In fact, we’re so perfect I can’t wait
to marry her.”
The words knock the air from my lungs.
I want to push him away, to shove him off me, and storm out of his room. But his arm stays locked around me, holding me
against him, trapping me.
“Let me go!” I protest but he only holds me tighter,
“Shouldn’t have been in my bed, Sweetheart.”
Sweetheart.
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Chapter 17 – In his arms
One word.
But powerful enough to make me explode as my insides twist.
“Don’t call me that,” I hiss, glaring at him, though I can feel the heat rising to my cheeks.
His thumb grazes the bare skin of my wrist–too soft, too slow like he’s testing my limits. “Why not?” he muses, voice a rough whisper. “Seemed to like it before.”
“Before you decided to turn into an asshole?” I snap.
His jaw tightens, the playful smirk slipping for a fraction of a second, replaced by something darker–something almost vulnerable–but it’s gone before I can grasp it.
“You’re the one in my bed,” he growls. “What does that make you?”
I shove at his chest, ignoring the way my fingers tingle against his bare skin. “I didn’t come here for you—I came to remind you that you don’t control me.”
His grip loosens just enough for me to push away, but before I can stand, his hand catches my chin, forcing me to meet his
burning gaze.
“You sure about that? Because it looks like you were trying to be cute in your seep. What? We’re you hoping I’d wake you with my head between your legs?” he whispers.
Silence stretches between us–thick, suffocating, electric.
I can hear my own heartbeat pounding in my ears, and I hate it. I hate him. I hate the way his touch, his voice, his presence still
unravels me.
And I hate that, for a split second, I don’t pull away.
“Go to hell,” I finally manage, yanking free from his grasp.
He leans back against the headboard, his head tilting, a wicked glimmer in his eye. “Already there, Sweetheart. You’re the devil
that put me here.”
My mouth opens and closes. No words come out.
I’m speechless.
Which is strange because I always have plenty to say.
Rolling my eyes I’m about to walk away when he pulls me back again.
He flips us and spoons me with the back of my head in his chest while he holds my arms in a locked position.
“Alex,” I whisper, my voice cracking just enough to betray me.
He doesn’t respond.
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Instead, his grip loosens just slightly, and the tension in his body seems to ignite.
My heart beats faster and faster.
This was a very bad idea.
Before I can protest, his breathing slows as his hot breath fans the back of my neck.
He’s asleep.
Just like that, the man who’s been the source of my torment, the man who just moments ago told me he was marrying someone else, is now passed out–holding me close like I’m something he can’t bear to let go.
I stay still, too stunned to move, too broken to pull away.
Just a few more minutes is the last thing I say before my eyes shut while being held by a wall full of heat and strong arms.
But when I wake up the next morning,
The bed is empty.
日
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